


First

by Sulwen



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-15
Updated: 2011-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulwen/pseuds/Sulwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their first kiss isn't what anyone thinks it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone for making me feel so loved on my birthday! This is my gift to all of you. <3

Their first kiss isn't what anyone thinks it is.

It actually happens the night before _that_ kiss, the one that everyone saw and still talks about years later. Neither of them correct the assumption.

Rehearsals for the AMAs are insane, choreography and platforms and a whole crew of dancers and fucking _live TV,_ and everyone is nervous about the next day. The band makes a group decision that the only thing to do, in such a situation, is to go out and get drunk, forget about the impending performance for a few hours and sleep the sleep of the well-inebriated.

They sit around a big circular table in a crowded bar, passing around plates of deep-fried food and letting their various bottles and glasses pile up in the middle. They shine in the dim light, catching Tommy's eye. And every time he glances up, Adam is there, across the table, his eyes warm, his lips smiling, all the stress and anxiety of rehearsal melted away. He's not _watching_ Tommy, exactly...it's more like he can somehow sense when Tommy's eyes are coming. Their eyes meet, and spark, and Tommy glances away again, looking down at the wood of the table instead. It's heavy and deeply chipped, marked uneven brown with uncounted spills. It looks like it could have been sitting here forever. Tommy likes it, the weight of it. Solid. Steady.

He's still looking down, running his hands over the smooth wood, when a touch on his shoulder makes him jump. He looks around. Adam.

“It's getting late...we should probably get outta here,” Adam says, and Tommy looks around, a little confused. The rest of the table is empty. When did that happen? And on that note...how much _exactly_ has he had to drink?

He's thinking back over the rounds – Adam bought a round, then Monte, then Adam again, then...someone – when Adam laughs, not unkindly, and speaks again. “You seem distracted, Tommy Joe. Wanna go for a walk?”

And...yeah. He really, really does.

The night is cool, just barely on the verge of being cold, but Tommy's blood is rushing whiskey-warm, and Adam sets a brisk pace. Or maybe his legs are just longer, Tommy thinks, eying said limbs speculatively and lengthening his own stride as much as he can. They walk in silence for a while, passing from street light to street light, neon florescents drifting across their faces. It's far too bright to see the stars.

Eventually, Adam slows, stops, turning a corner into a side alley and leaning back against red brick. A faded slash of old graffiti cuts through the even pattern of brick over his head, the letters bubbled out too thick for Tommy to decipher their message. The alley is dark, but the light from the street manages to find Adam's face regardless, bright-blue eyes and residual glitter, the jut of cheekbones and jawline. Tommy thinks he's never seen a face quite as interesting as Adam's.

He drifts into the alley, shifting his weight from foot to foot, not quite sure where to stand. Adam would know. Adam knows how to place people, how to put them into just the spot where they're the most beautiful. How to make sure they're always showing their good side. Not that Tommy can ask.

He has no idea where the question he _does_ ask comes from. That happens to Tommy, sometimes. Sometimes he doesn't know what to say until he hears himself saying it.

“Have you ever kissed a girl?”

Adam's eyes come down from where they've been looking up into the sky, find Tommy's face, and he smiles as he cocks his head, curious. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

Tommy bites his lip. He doesn't _know,_ really. He's not trying to figure out “gay.” He gets that. Maybe...maybe he's just trying to figure out “Adam.”

He shrugs, not sure how to turn that thought into words.

Adam is still staring at him, a smirk playing about his lips. “Have you ever kissed a boy?” he asks, still with that same curious expression. It's strangely cat-like, Tommy thinks, though he couldn't for the life of him explain why.

He can feel himself blushing as he answers, or maybe it's still just the flush of alcohol. How long has it been since the bar? Since rehearsal? The noise of the street is strangely faded, though they're only a few steps away, and the quiet makes the night seem later, deeper.

“Yeah...I mean...I guess...”

Adam pushes up off the wall and comes a step closer, his face deeply shadowed as he leaves the light behind.

“But have you for _real?_ Not a joke, not a bet...a real kiss?”

Tommy shakes his head, quick, jerky. Takes a breath. Realizes, suddenly, that he's been waiting for this conversation, this or one just like it. He's only known Adam a few weeks, but it feels like this has been coming for ages, and all he can think is _finally._ He has no idea where the conversation ends...but he wants to find out.

Adam's closer now, close enough that Tommy has to look up to meet his eyes. “I can...I'll show you, if you want. What it's like,” he murmurs, soft and sure and genuine.

“You wouldn't...I dunno, you wouldn't mind or anything?” Tommy hedges, his eyes darting away.

Adam's laugh is high and bright, and Tommy doesn't think he's ever thought of anything as “joyful” before, but that's exactly what it sounds like. Joy.

“No, Tommy Joe. I wouldn't mind at all.”

And then Adam's fingers are brushing his cheek, coaxing his head to turn, and suddenly there are warm lips brushing gently over his, and he hasn't even had _time_ to get nervous, because this is actually happening _right now._

Adam's lips are big. Big, and kind of...strong, in a weird way, and for a second Tommy just stands there and lets Adam peck at him, tiny and innocent and still pretty fucking exciting because it's just so _new._

And then his eyes close, and his lips part, and his body just sort of _folds_ in Adam's direction. Adam makes a happy noise deep in his throat, pleased, and he presses the kiss deeper, just a little, slots their lips together for one lingering moment, warm and soft and just a bare hint of wet heat beyond.

He's not ready for the twinge of disappointment when Adam releases him and steps back, the urge to follow, to chase down that sensation and examine it just a little more. Adam holds his gaze for a moment, like he's reading him, like he can see what's behind Tommy's eyes. Tommy bites his lip again, old habit, wonders suddenly if he can taste Adam there, if that hint of copper and cranberry is Adam lingering on his lips or just his imagination. The thought knocks the wind out of him, throws him off-balance, somehow more shocking than the kiss itself, and he can feel the beginnings of unease starting to creep sickeningly through him, unwanted but persistent, the echoes of a childhood not quite escaped.

And then Adam laughs again, crystal-sharp and bright, and Tommy's smile is as easy as reflex, as instinct. He raises an eyebrow at Tommy, playful, happy, and darts back out into the street, running languid, easy, wanting to be chased. And Tommy's not much for running on most days, but something wild is in his blood tonight, something _free,_ and he takes off after Adam, flying through the night.

Much, much later, when people ask him about the AMAs, what he remembers, it's not the stage, not the pounding of music, the thrust of Adam's tongue, the flurry of PR and press and stress lines around Adam's eyes. He remembers the rhythmic pounding of black boots on cement sidewalks, and the smell of the city at night, and the lit-up beautiful way Adam's face looked as he glanced back over his shoulder, urging Tommy on, _chase me_ written in the deepsea-blue of his eyes.


End file.
